


Rentboy in Red

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Sex, BAMF John Watson, First Time, M/M, Military Kink, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Red Pants, Red Pants Monday, Rentboys, Topping from the Bottom, Virgin Sherlock, rentboy john watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock thought he was only going for a case. He didn't expect the rentboy to blow his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rentboy in Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sexxica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/gifts).



Sherlock looked over the house of ill repute as he approached it. One of the more popular in London, it had a reputation for catering to more exotic or specific tastes. It was also a favorite haunt of the man Sherlock had been tracking for several weeks. He’d made a reservation earlier and the plan was to partake of a bit of entertainment to keep his cover and then track the man afterward.

It never occurred to Sherlock that having no experience with this type of entertainment might cause a problem.

Walking into the house he found himself in a foyer with a desk and a single woman behind it. She looked up at him. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, Holmes.” He hadn’t bothered with a fake name, his target had no idea he was being tracked and his name was odd enough that half the time people assumed it was fake anyway.

She turned and opened up and old fashioned card file. From what he understood they had a computer system, but the cards were the primary records and destroyed after each visit in order to protect their clientele. She nodded and pulled out the card, taking the key that was attached to it and offering it to him. “Second floor, room 21B. Left side of the corridor.”

Nodding, Sherlock took the key without thanking her and mounted the staircase just off the foyer. There was almost no other sign of human activity. If he was a different sort of man it would all seem just a little bit creepy. But this house took their clients and secrecy very seriously. He’d only found out his client was coming here with regularity because he’d tracked the man’s movements for a bit more than a month. There was no sound as he went down the corridor and he could only imagine that the rooms incorporated some sort of soundproofing. 

Licking his lips, Sherlock fit the key in the lock and turned it, pushing the door open. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't the bed made up with military precision. The rest of the room seemed fairly barren and surprisingly empty. There was another door that he could only assume was some sort of bathroom and he started to reach for the handle.

“Sit on the bed, I’ll be out in a moment,” came a voice from behind it.

Sherlock was so surprised he obeyed. The voice did have a touch of command behind it. He took off his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair and waited, uncertain if he should undress further or wait for commands.

After a moment the other door opened and the man stepping out surprised him nearly as much as the room. He was short, steel blue eyes, blond hair. And wearing nothing more than dog tags, a pair of red booty shorts and polished black boots.

The shorts did nothing to conceal the considerable….weaponry that the young man was carrying.

The man also had a scar on one shoulder, starburst, no doubt sustained by a gunshot wound in the army. A tattoo had been worked over and around it, not any specific design, but something that seemed vaguely primitive. Dangerous. Sherlock licked his lips.

He stalked towards Sherlock in a way that made the detective’s heart leap in his chest. He had to be careful or he’d lose all rational thought. “Kneel,” barked the soldier.

Sherlock was on his knees so fast he was dizzy. For the first time Sherlock started to think he might be in trouble.

The soldier circled around him as though inspecting something mildly unpleasant. “You’ll refer to me as Captain,” he said.

It was ridiculous. Just silly roleplay. Yes he was harder than he’d ever been, judging by the tent in his trousers, but this former soldier was just playing a role and he could easily-

“Answer me,” he barked.

“Yes, sir. Captain,” said Sherlock automatically, then flushed at his own quick response.

The Captain finished his circuit and stood in front of Sherlock again. Sherlock glanced up and could just read the dog tags. John Watson. The man’s real dog tags, he was certain. A strong hand grabbed his hair and yanked, just a little. “You be good for me and I’ll be real good for you.” John’s voice was strong and firm and how was it possible he could get any more hard? At this rate he might burst a button.

“Yes, sir,” he said, far more breathily then he intended.

John let go of his hair and took a step back. “Strip.”

Sherlock flushed even deeper, but again he obeyed before his brain could catch up to his actions. The shirt came off, joining the coat on the chair. He was aware of his own wiry muscles compared to the compact strength of the soldier. If John was a solid rock, then Sherlock was, at best, a willow.

There was a bit of hesitation as he reached for the buttons on his trousers, but well, if nothing else the relief would be welcome. He started to get up, but John put a solid hand on his shoulder. Right, he hadn’t been given permission to stand. 

Taking a breath, Sherlock pushed his trousers down to his knees, aware of John’s cock inches from his face, that red fabric stretched obscenely as it tried to keep his manhood under cover. Sherlock’s cock twitched, betraying his obvious interest. Licking his lips again, Sherlock toed off his shoes and shimmied his trousers the rest of the way off, along with his socks.

“Pants,” said John, still with a hand on his shoulder.

Sherlock’s pants were far less interesting than the sight in front of him, but they were an impediment if this was to go very far. He pushed them over his narrow hips, aware his own cock was perhaps a bit longer, but nowhere near as thick. Quickly he got them the rest of the way off, then tore his eyes away from John’s cock and looked up at his face.

“Good,” said John, and that simple praise sent a hot shiver down Sherlock’s spine.The Captain already had him fully disarmed. “Onto the bed.”

John let go of his shoulder so Sherlock could climb into the bed and lay on his back, finding the sheets surprisingly soft. But he supposed scratchy wool army blankets wouldn’t be ideal for this sort of activity.

It suddenly occurred to Sherlock that he was about to lose his virginity.

Not that he didn’t know that before, of course. And he’d never placed a particularly high value on it. Only transport, after all, sexual desires would only slow him down or confuse him. This little excursion was all he needed as proof of that.

But he found he didn’t mind at all.

John grabbed condoms and lube. Sherlock watched as he moved towards the bed and ripped open the condom, popping it into his mouth. With a wicked grin, John knelt at his side and dropped his head, sliding the condom over his cock with his tongue in one smooth motion. Sherlock cried out, grabbing the sheets and ruining the military corners.

“Sensitive,” chuckled John as he raised his head. His hand smoothed down one of Sherlock’s pale thighs, cool dog tags just hitting his hip. “You like that?”

Sherlock nodded, working his jaw for a moment before he could make the words come out. “Yes, Captain.

John grinned. “I’m going to suck your cock. And then I’m going to ride you. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my come.”

Sherlock could almost taste the salt at the thought. “Please,” he said weakly.

“Please, what?” John’s lips ghosted along his hips.

“All of that, I want… all of that, Captain.” Sherlock watched him with wide eyes.

John dropped an almost tender kiss on his skin, then went back to his cock, giving it a few sucks before stepping back. He hooked his fingers in his shorts and peeled them off, giving Sherlock his first good look...and his deductions hadn’t been wrong. That was certainly something John had nestled in the tight blond hair. Only half hard though. Sherlock frowned.

“What’s the matter,” asked John, approaching the bed again. He grabbed the lube and coated his fingers, reaching back to finger himself.

“May I touch you, sir?” asked Sherlock.

John met his eyes and gave a short nod. Sherlock reached out a hand and wrapped it around his thick cock, experimenting with his grip, watching John’s face for a reaction.

The soldier gasped after a moment, cock filling out even more in his hands. Sherlock kept going, kept wanting to see those micro expressions of pleasure. They weren’t part of the act, nor were the little hitches of breath. And John had a beautiful, expressive face.

“That’s enough,” growled John after a few more moments. He shifted up and grabbed Sherlock’s cock, guiding him in and bearing down.

Sherlock’s hands grabbed John’s thighs, moaning with pleasure. John was hot, so tight around him.

“Good,” said John softly, bracing himself on Sherlock’s chest as he rode him. The dog tags jangled as he moved, and Sherlock could feel the edges of the boots against his legs.

Sherlock groaned as John grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head, riding him harder. Sherlock arched up against him, feeling like his mind was going haywire from overstimulation.

“That’s it. You wanna come, Sherlock?”

It was the first time John had said his name. And it had never sounded so filthy on anyone else’s tongue. Filthy and delightful, all at the same time. It made him wonder what else that tongue might do. He flushed deeper and groaned, nodding.

John worked him over expertly, which, really, he was. As he leaned over Sherlock’s chest the dog tags dragged against his skin, pulling him even high towards his orgasm. It crashed over him suddenly, and he cried out and twisted underneath John, who rode him through it, panting.

“Please, sir,” he gasped when he started to come back to earth.

Apparently reading his mind, John carefully pulled off his cock, keeping the condom in place on Sherlock as he scooted forward and rest his cock against the detective's lips, giving himself a few strokes. Sherlock parted his mouth and darted out his tongue, groaning and swallowing as John came. He was just as beautiful in that moment, hair sticking to his forehead, body glistening with sweat, hands strong and sure on his own cock. Sherlock memorized it, uncertain when he might ever get to see such a thing again.

Finally, John pulled back, breathing heavily. He had Sherlock half sit up while he got the condom off, giving the head of his cock a kiss as he slipped out of bed and went through the other door. Sherlock lay back, staring at the ceiling, noticing a mirror for the first time and wondering what exactly the purpose of it was.

Suddenly the door banged open and his target stood there, gun pointed at him. “You’ve been following me,” he growled. “Who are you working for?”

Sherlock sat up, not even bothering to try and cover himself. “Is that really what you want to know?”

“Of course it is, why wouldn’t I want to know that?” Sherlock saw the handle on the other door turn, but kept his gaze on his target.

“I’m merely wondering if that’s the the most important question at this moment?”

“What the hell else would I care about right now?” he asked, moments before the door swung open and into him, knocking him off balance. The gun went off, but John was already there, swiftly disarming him and putting him on the floor, one arm twisted behind his back before Sherlock could blink or move.

There was the sound of footsteps and a pair of burly bouncers appeared in moments. “I’m fine,” said John. “Get him out of here. Unless there’s something else you need from him, Mister Holmes?”

“No, I have what I need. But you will find there’s a warrant for his arrest, so you may want to have him delivered to the nearest constable.”

The bouncers blinked and looked between themselves, then one shrugged and they hauled him to his feet and out of the room. John closed the door after them.

“Panic button,” said Sherlock.

“Of course,” said John, reaching down for his shorts. “Did that shot go anywhere important?”

Sherlock stood and investigated the wall behind the bed. “Into the brick. You’ll just have to paint it over, that is, if you want to remain here.”

“What?” John froze, still hunched over, dog tags swinging gently.

“You really were a soldier. A doctor at that, weren’t you?” 

“Well, yes, but how did you…?”

“As you may have guessed by our uninvited guest, I frequently encounter danger in my work. It wouldn’t hurt to have a soldier and a doctor around.”

John stood, sincere smile spreading across his face. “You mean it? Like, a proper job?”

“Course I do, don’t be slow.” Sherlock reached for his own clothes. “While I greatly appreciate your talents, you could do more than here. I’m also in need of a flatmate.”

John stared at him for another moment. “All right,” he said, shaking his head. “Okay. This is mad but...just...give me a minute to get my stuff.”

Sherlock watched him step back into the side room. John Watson would come with many talents, and there was so much that they could do, together. A shiver went down his spine. And maybe they could further explore what his transport could do too.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
